Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

ARABELLA WORRIES

News reached the Fitzgerald household early the following morning, delivered by none other than Colonel Brandon, himself a dear friend of both families. Arabella could scarcely remember when her father had first met Colonel Brandon, so long had he been in their lives, indeed, at her birth he had been named her godfather, a title he took seriously.

"Poor George," her mother lamented, tears pooling in her eyes. Ever since the death of George's own beloved mother, Arabella's had tried hard to fill the void, to soften life for him as much as possible. "Does Johnathan know?"

"He came at once and was present alongside George when Duke Livingston took his last breath. He remains there still," Colonel Brandon was quick to reassure. "My understanding of the matter is that it was rather unexpected, what was a mere cold last week quickly turned to pneumonia. Perhaps had he not been four and sixty…". The Colonel let the sentence hang, and Arabella excused herself to return to her room.

Flinging herself across her bed, she let the tears flow. Arabella's heart broke for George, not least because of his father's passing. She knew the two men had not been close for many years, not since the passing of George's mother. She also knew that George had hated it, he had confided in her only last month of his desire to make things right again between he and his father, of his relocation to his mother's estate so that he might be close enough to his father to better repair their failing relationship. Arabella knew that he would feel his passing keenly.

Her heart ached for another reason, she had hoped that this year, that this Christmas, George might finally declare his intentions. Last Christmas they had danced together – twice – at Lord Marlowe's festive ball, in full sight of everyone gathered there. George had even been bold enough to steal a quick kiss from Arabella as he escorted her back to her seat, plucking a berry from the kissing bough with a twinkle in his eye and placing it in his pocket, seemingly unfazed by who might be watching them.

Now though, it hardly seemed a fitting time to be announcing anything.

Arabella wished that there was a way to help, a way to let George know that she was sorry, that she ached with him, for him. Ever practical, she washed her face and headed downstairs to find the cook.

When her mother finally came to look for her, she found Arabella elbow deep in bread dough, and while she eyed her with a sad little smile, she said nothing.

By the time the sun was ready to set, Arabella had helped cook to prepare a week's worth of meals that she boxed up and ordered delivered to George at once. There, at least she would know that he was eating properly.